


Ashamed

by saraliz78



Category: Smallville
Genre: Angst, Comfort/Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-06
Updated: 2013-09-06
Packaged: 2017-12-25 19:36:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 9,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/956853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saraliz78/pseuds/saraliz78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PostPariah fic about Clark dealing with Alicia's death. His parents' and friends' reactions are dealt with as well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Clark couldn't focus on anything. Nothing except throwing the ball at the wall of the loft, and catching it again. The steady rhythm of the ball was like a heartbeat ... something Alicia didn't have anymore. He felt a fresh wave of sadness, but did not stop throwing the ball. The feeling of loss was more than he could bear. He didn't want to eat, sleep, or even leave the loft. He didn't want to see anyone - he wasn't sure he would be able to stop crying once he started.

Alicia had known his secret. She had not betrayed him, but he had betrayed her. His disbelief had endangered her life, and that life had been taken away from her forever. All he had to do was go with her to the Sheriff's office, explain that he, too, had abilities. He had refused, and Alicia had paid the price. What kind of person did that make him?

He had seen the way everyone had stopped and stared when he had entered the Talon with Alicia. That was one of the things that hurt the most. People knew her secret, and they hated her for it. He had seen the look on Lana's face when she caught sight of Alicia. Chloe's refusal to help had hurt, and on top of that, his parents' recriminations about his spending time with Alicia had hurt as well. Did no one believe in second chances? Had it occurred to no one that Alicia had paid for her crimes and received treatment for her mental illness?

Just the thought of seeing her body hanging there like that made him feel ill. He could still remember how her body had still been warm when he found her, but when he had touched her hand as she lay in the coffin, it had been so cold ...

It all boiled down to one thing for Clark: if he had been there, Alicia would still be alive today. If he had not been more concerned about what his parents would think, what his friends would think of him, he might have gone to the Sheriff with her and prevented this tragedy. Briefly, Clark thought of Alicia's parents - had they ever believed their daughter had changed? Were they secretly relieved that she was gone? Worse, would his own parents feel the same if Clark died? Would they mourn him, only to relish their freedom from the network of secrets and lies that had been intact since his arrival during the meteor shower?

That was a question he doubted he would ever have the courage to ask. He could hear his parents coming out the house, heading for the barn. It was inevitable that he would have to talk to them eventually, but he didn't feel up to it. Truthfully, he was a little bit angry with them for instilling in him the importance of keeping his secret. Did they truly want him to keep the secret to protect him, or was it because they were ashamed of him? Forcing such thoughts aside, he tried to steel himself to answer their questions.


	2. Chapter 2

Clark sat still in the loft, unable to meet his parents' eyes. Jonathan had just finished reassuring his son that Alicia's death was in no way his fault, but it had had no effect on the boy. Something about the way Clark had said that he could never forgive himself made Jonathan feel uneasy. He just couldn't muster much sorrow that Alicia was permanently out of his son's life, and as ugly as that truth was, he still longed to have been able to shield his son from finding someone he cared about the way he had found Alicia. Martha reached out to Clark, rubbing his back gently. Startled, he jumped back, away from her touch.

"Don't - don't comfort me! I don't deserve it! If I hadn't been a coward, she wouldn't be dead."

The hurt expression in Martha's eyes as she withdrew her hand brought out the protectiveness in Jonathan, and he spoke before he thought, "Clark! That is enough out of you. Your mother was trying to help you, but you don't seem to want help, you'd rather sit up here and sulk! Well, fine. We'll leave you to it."

He got up and took Martha by the hand. "When you feel like talking and listening instead of hiding and sulking, come back to the house."

No sooner were the words out of his mouth, than he regretted them. One look at Martha told him that she was going to have some choice words of her own for him as soon as they were inside the house.

Once they had climbed down from the loft and walked back to the house, he discovered that he had been right, and he knew that her anger was deserved.

"Jonathan, our son found her dead. Not just dead, but hanging! He's blaming himself, and we need to help him, not yell at him!" She shook her head, crossing her arms in front of her. "I just don't know what gets into you sometimes!"

"It's that girl, that's what! She tried to kill him, tried to kill Lana, dosed him with red Kryptonite, seduced him, and expected everyone to just accept that she'd changed! She hurt our son, practically violated him, and he's sitting up there all torn up over her death! That bothers me, Martha. The girl wasn't worth what he's doing to himself!"

Martha steered her husband to the kitchen table and into a seat, then dropped into the chair across from him. "I agree with you that she wasn't good for Clark, but that's not the point! He's seventeen years old, and he's a tender-hearted young man. He takes things to heart. If he had found a complete stranger or even an enemy dead like - like Alicia was, it would have affected him. Let alone, a young lady he felt a common bond with."

Leaning forward on his elbows, Jonathan sighed. "She was nothing like Clark. Just because she had powers doesn't mean that she was anything like him at all."

"We know that, but that wasn't how Clark perceived things. He's grieving for more than just Alicia up there. He's grieving for the loss of a person who knew his secret. Someone he didn't have to lie to."

"What should we do? He can't live up there forever. He's going to have to go back to school sometime."

Martha shrugged helplessly. "I really don't know. We need to get him to talk to us, really talk to us ... but I'm worried that he might feel that he can't trust us because of how we felt about Alicia."

"What about his friends? Has Pete called? Chloe must have told him what happened by now."

Martha shook her head. "No."

"How about Lana and Jason?"

"No, not a word."

"Lex?"

"Not yet, but I'm sure he will."

"What about Lois? Have you heard from her since she dropped Clark off after he found Alicia?"

"She called last night to check on him. She said she was worried about him. I told her he was still out in the barn, and she said not to bother him, that she'd find out when he was feeling social again from Chloe." Martha smiled. "I'm glad he has Chloe and Lois looking out for him, at least."

Jonathan reached out and took his wife's hands in his own. "And us. He's always got us."

"Let's give him a little more time. I'll cook some dinner, and you can go out there, talk to him, and get him to come into the house. He hasn't had anything to eat except some water and a turkey sandwich since yesterday morning. He needs to eat something substantial."

"I'll tell him that Lois called, and that Chloe stopped by this morning. Maybe that will help, at least a little bit." Jonathan found himself wondering, though, why Chloe and Lois seemed to be the only ones expressing any concern for Clark.


	3. Chapter 3

Jonathan entered the barn slowly, thinking about what he was going to say to his son to convince him to come back to the house. The moment he entered the barn, he heard a sound that nearly broke his heart. Clark was crying up in the loft. He knew that his son's super hearing would have detected his footsteps before he  
ever entered the barn, but in his grief, Clark had underestimated normal human hearing. As he neared the loft, Jonathan heard the sniffling muffled, the erratic breaths forced into a pattern of normalcy. When he poked his head up into the loft, he saw Clark sitting exactly as he had been before.

"Clark, I'm sorry I snapped at you earlier this evening." Jonathan sat down next to his son.

Clark shrugged. "It's okay."

"No, it isn't. You're upset, and you have every right to feel that way."

Dazedly, Clark shook his head. "All I had to do was go with her to the Sheriff and tell her about my abilities. I wanted her to be honest, to tell the Sheriff the truth about everything, but when she asked the same of me, I - I couldn't. I wasn't fair to her, Dad! I expected her to do something I wasn't willing to do myself, and it got her killed!"

Jonathan Kent wanted nothing more than to pull his son to him and hug him tightly. He wanted to tell him that everything would be all right, but he wasn't sure that was the truth, at least not for Clark. For the time being, he just listened.

"Protecting my own secret wasn't worth her dying for. I don't want anyone to be in danger from my secret ever again. If it comes down to revealing what I am or endangering someone's life, I can't choose again. I know you and Mom want me to keep the secret, but right now I'd rather be dissected in some LuthorCorp lab than let another innocent person die because of me!"

Horror at the idea of his son at the mercy of a LuthorCorp laboratory filled him. "Clark, no! Your mother and I love you and it would kill us if you were lost to us. Alicia did not die because of you, Clark. She died because a crazed young man framed her, attacked her, and took her life. It wasn't fair, and it's always tragic when someone young dies, but it was not your fault."

Tears hung in Clark's long, dark eyelashes. "I loved her." He sniffed miserably. "I loved her, and I might have been the only one who ever did. Her parents were afraid of her. When she was little and they first found out about her abilities, they kept her locked up. It's no wonder she was unstable before. That would be like if you and Mom kept me in a room with kryptonite to keep me from using my abilities ..."

Unable to resist providing comfort to his son for one more moment, Jonathan turned, gripping Clark's shoulders firmly. "We would never do that. Do you hear me, Clark? We would never hurt you like that. Alicia's parents were wrong to do that to her." When Clark looked down, away from his father's eyes, Jonathan gently tipped his head back up, looking him in the eye. "If we had to choose between telling the world your secrets or keeping you locked away, we would gladly take our chances with telling the world."

Allowing his head to rest against his father's shoulder, Clark mumbled, "You mean you're not ashamed?"

Aghast, Jonathan shook his head vehemently. "Of course we're not ashamed of you! I'm proud of you every day, Clark. With or without powers. You have a strong conscience, you make good grades, you're a respectful, loving son to your mother and me. As if those things weren't enough - because believe me, Clark, they are - you have these abilities that you could use in a thousand different ways to get things that you want or even need, and you choose to use them to help people. Even when you hold up the tractor for me, you're using your abilities to help, and that makes me proud."

Something he had said had to have been the right thing, because the next thing Jonathan knew, Clark let out a sob, buried his face in his knees, and leaned into his father's chest. He let his son cry himself out, and then listened as he began to talk, attempting to explain what had happened that night in his own words. Suddenly, whether or not he had liked and approved of Alicia was completely beside the point. A chill rippled through his body as he heard his son's voice say, "She was still warm, Dad. She - she was still warm."


	4. Chapter 4

Jonathan Kent steered his son out of the barn, across the yard, and into the house with a supportive, fatherly hand on his back. Clark seemed dazed, his eyes glassy and his demeanor beyond subdued. The smell of food wafted throughout the house, and Jonathan felt his stomach rumble in anticipation of the evening meal. He hoped the aroma would help Clark, remind him that he was hungry, but he knew he was wrong when he saw that Clark's face had gone a ghastly shade of greenish pale.

"Clark! Are you all right?"

The boy shook his head and bolted for the downstairs bathroom, closing the door behind him. Through the door, he could hear that Clark was retching, though he couldn't imagine that he had enough food inside of him to actually throw up. And, since Clark didn't get sick and he hadn't been anywhere near green Kryptonite, that it wasn't a physical illness that caused his reaction.

He knocked on the bathroom door. "Clark, son - do you need anything? Are you sick?"

The reply through the door was strained, "I don't get sick."

Jonathan opened the door a crack. "You don't look well to me." He opened the door the rest of the way and dug a washcloth out of the closet, and tossed it to Clark. "Soak it with cold water, wash your face, and then come on out."

While Clark took some time to compose himself, Jonathan went to the kitchen, where Martha was taking a pan of baked chicken breasts out of the oven. Her face lit up when she saw her husband.

"Did he come in with you? Is he feeling any better?"

"He's in the bathroom, and I think we had a breakthrough out in the barn, but when he smelled the food, he ... well, he ran into the bathroom and threw up, or tried to, anyway."

Martha gasped. "But, Clark doesn't get sick!"

"He's not. I think it was a combination of stress, grief, and hunger."

The sound of footsteps in the hall heralded Clark's arrival. He still looked pale and exhausted, but he was here, in the house where he belonged. Martha wanted to ask a dozen questions, but she knew that Jonathan would fill her in later. What Clark needed right now was love and dinner.

Under parental scrutiny, he managed to choke down half of a chicken breast and a buttered roll. The Kents didn't try to make idle conversation. The meal passed in a strange silence. When Clark had finished eating, he asked to be excused. Jonathan and Martha exchanged glances. They didn't want him to leave without some sort of conversation about what had happened, but he just looked so tired that they were torn.

It was Martha who decided. "Why don't you go upstairs and shower, get ready for bed, then come back down and talk to us a little bit? Take your time, no need to superspeed. We'll need time to clear the table and start the dishes as it is."

Clark nodded his agreement, then slowly ascended the stairs.

The moment they heard the shower begin running, Martha turned to Jonathan. "What happened out there? Did he talk to you?"

Jonathan summarized what had happened in the barn, leaving nothing out.

Martha was visibly upset by the time her husband had finished. "Ashamed? He thought - thinks that we keep his secret because we're ashamed of him? Oh, God. I'm not even sure we did the right thing anymore. Should we have let him tell more people? Should we have taken that chance?"

"I wish I knew."  
The Kents were waiting in the living room when Clark came down the stairs. Martha felt a rush of love for her son, together with anger that he should suffer the way he was obviously suffering. His dark hair was still damp from the shower, and he wore red and blue flannel pajama pants, a soft, grey sweatshirt, and bare feet. If he hadn't been well over six feet tall, she would have had the urge to pick him up and hold him close the way she had when he was small. After hearing what had happened in the barn from Jonathan, it was taking a concerted effort on her part not to rush to her son's side and hug him.

Clark sat on the couch beside his mother tentatively. The expression of pain in his eyes was too much for Martha. She reached out to touch his face, then ran her hand through the damp hair. "Clark, baby ... I'm sorry about Alicia. I know what she meant to you." He didn't say anything, but she could see tears standing in his eyes. "I wish I could take the hurt away."

"You didn't like her." His statement was flat, but not accusatory.

"No, we didn't. But we love you. Anything that hurts you, hurts us too. And, Clark? You have to remember that Alicia hurt you. Not just the first time, when she tried to kill you and Lana, but this last time as well. She used red Kryptonite on you and tricked you into marrying her in Las Vegas. That scared us, Clark."

"Why? I was happy!"

"We had no way of knowing whether you were doing something you truly wanted to do, or if the red Kryptonite was informing your decision. To us, knowing that she tricked you like that seemed like an exploitation of your abilties, a manipulation. She violated your right to choose, Clark."

Clark sat still, pondering his mother's words. For the first time since the beginning of his relationship with Alicia, his parents reluctance to accept her made some semblance of sense.

Martha continued, "You've got a big heart. You look for the good in people, and you forgive easily. Those are things we're proud of in you. One day if you have a child of your own, you'll understand that a while a parent can forgive their child anything, those who have harmed their child are much more difficult to forgive."

Jonathan spoke up, "Do you understand, Clark? We are YOUR parents, and as such, it will always be YOUR welfare that concerns us the most. We have never concealed your secret from any kind of shame or fear of what you can do. We keep your secret because we don't want you to be hurt or taken away from us. To us, the things Alicia did and said were threats to the safety of the person who means more to us than anything else - you."


	5. Chapter 5

Clark let his body relax, thinking about his parents' words. They had provided comfort in his grief, even though they had not approved of his relationship with Alicia. Their explanation of their disapproval made sense to him, and while his heart still railed at the unfairness of it, he now understood why, from a parent's point of view, the relationship had been a source of concern. For some reason, whenever something traumatic or upsetting happened, he found comfort in sleeping on the couch. Alicia's death had left him feeling shocked, horrified, bereaved, fearful, guilty, and angry, all at the same time. He hadn't felt much like eating or sleeping or really even anything else since it had happened, and every time he closed his eyes, he saw Alicia hanging there, her still-warm body swaying at the end of a rope. He felt a soft, motherly hand brush against his forehead, and he opened his eyes.

Martha Kent stood over him, dressed in flannel pajamas and a faded pink robe.

"Mom?"

"Clark, baby - I didn't mean to wake you, I was just checking on you. You've been asleep for three hours."

He stretched. He didn't remember falling asleep, but he realized that he must have, because it was dark outside, and the clock on the wall read ten after midnight.

"You didn't wake me up, Mom. I was - thinking."

"About Alicia?"

He nodded, trying to ignore the sick feeling that still hit him when he thought about what had happened. "I'm sorry about all the bad stuff I did with - with Alicia. I didn't do it to - to worry you and Dad, or to upset Lana."

Clark sat up, making room for his mother to sit down next to him.

"I know. Your father and I both know that you wouldn't do anything to worry us on purpose, and that you're not the kind of mean-spirited person who would do something to upset a friend. Would you believe that in our younger years, your father and I caused our parents a good bit of worry? It's what teenagers do, Clark - no matter what planet they're from."

Had Clark been less emotionally fragile, he might have been embarrassed at how much he needed his parents' support and affection, but as things were, his need for comfort by far outweighed any desire to maintain his teenage dignity. He accepted his mother's hug gratefully.

"I love you, Mom."

She squeezed him tighter. "I love you, too. You were the answer to a prayer for me - no child could have been more wanted, needed, and welcome than you were to us. You've made me proud. You were a sweet toddler, and a good child. You've grown into a thoughtful, considerate, young man."

The sadness that weighed on his soul didn't exactly go away, but it did lift a little bit.

"Do you think you'll be ready to go back to school this week? You've already missed three days."

The idea of going back to school made the sick feeling return full-force. Could he hear Alicia's name without bursting into tears? Could he take the stares and the whispering? Would anyone talk to him, or would he have to eat lunch alone?

His mother must have seen his panic, because she began to gently rub his back. "Never mind. You don't have to go back until you're ready. I promise you. Your father has already agreed to go and have a talk with the principal tomorrow morning. He's going to see if they'll let Chloe bring you your homework so you don't fall too much behind. Chloe has called several times and come over twice - you weren't ready to see anyone yet, but she wanted you to know that she was thinking of you."

Knowing that Chloe had called made him feel slightly less awful. She hadn't approved of Alicia, but that she had checked on him anyway almost brought tears to his eyes.

"Did - did anyone else - ?"

"Lex called while you were asleep - he hadn't heard what happened until then, and he wanted to know if you needed anything. I told him you weren't seeing anyone yet, but that I would tell you he called. Lois called the day after everything happened, wanting to know how you were holding up. She said she'd find out from Chloe when you were up to having visitors."

"Pete? Has Pete called?"

His mother sighed. "Not yet, sweetheart. Maybe Chloe hasn't told him yet."

Clark sighed dejectedly. Pete wasn't going to call. For all he knew, Pete would probably think that Alicia had deserved to die. If Pete had been here, he would have been angry with Clark for giving her a second chance, just like everyone else was. He didn't ask about Lana. He knew that she would not have called or have stopped by. He could understand that she was uncomfortable around Alicia when she was alive, but she had to understand that in death Alicia was no kind of threat to anyone. No one except Clark, his memory, and his conscience. 'Me, myself, and I,' he though bitterly.

"Do you want to stay here on the couch?"

He was startled out of his thoughts by his mother's voice. He really didn't want to go to his room. The couch was so comfortable, and his bedroom seemed too far away, which he knew was ridiculous given that he could run to Las Vegas in a matter of seconds.

"Yeah."

She ruffled his hair affectionately and planted a motherly kiss on his forehead. "Good night, Clark. I have to be at work in the morning, so I'd best get some sleep. Your father is making breakfast for the two of you in the morning. I think he wants you to help him around the farm some, if you feel like it."

The idea of spending tomorrow at home with just his father sounded good to Clark. He wouldn't be on display as the boy whose girlfriend was killed at school, he wouldn't be the boy who dated the pscychopath to all of the whisperers in the hallway, and he wouldn't have to deal with the possibility of running into Lana.

He smiled. "Sounds good. Mom?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks. For being so nice about school and - and everything."

"Like we said, Clark - you and your well-being are our primary concern as your parents. We love you, sweetheart."

Moments after his mother left the room, Clark was sound asleep.


	6. Chapter 6

Martha had felt slightly guilty leaving for work that morning. It wasn't that she thought that Clark and Jonathan were incapable of making themselves breakfast and lunch, because she knew they could handle that. It wasn't even that she thought Clark so fragile that he would have a breakdown without her - he was grieving, exhausted, and sad, but he was still strong. That was another thing about her son that made her proud. He had been through so much, and he always managed to come through the difficult times stronger and smarter. Her boy learned from his mistakes. She knew that Jonathan would be able to provide comfort if Clark needed it. She felt guilty because she wanted more than anything to be there with her son while he was at his most vulnerable. The idea of him leaving his home to attend college was rapidly changing from a plan for the distant future to a fast-approaching reality. Martha wanted to make every  
remaining moment count.

Opening the coffee shop was easy now that she had done it often enough for it to be routine. In a few moments, students would start pouring in for their morning pastries and cappuccinos before school. Business people would be in for their daily caffeine jolt before work. She turned the sign on the door from 'Closed' to 'Open' and waited behind the counter.

One of her first customers of the day was Chloe, who always got an early start to school so that she could have some extra time at the Torch.

"Good morning, Mrs. Kent."

Martha smiled. Chloe was a nice girl, and a good friend to her son. "Good morning, Chloe. What can I get for you?"

"The usual. How's Clark?"

"He's a little better, I suppose. He finally talked to us last night. We're still worried about him, though. I don't think he's ready to come back to school yet. Jonathan is going to call the principal today and arrange for someone to bring him his homework."

A smile lit Chloe's face. "Can I do it? It would be a good way for me to get to see him. He'll need someone to explain some of the assignments, and I - I miss him."

Martha passed Chloe her coffee and frowned slightly. "Are you sure you don't want something to eat with that coffee? It isn't good for you to skip breakfast."

The young woman shook her head, "I'm good. I'll eat lunch. Coffee in the morning jump starts my brain." She hesitated for a moment. "Do you think he'll talk to me?"

"I think he will. He needs to start seeing his friends, even if he isn't ready to socialize much. He needs to remember how much his friends care about him. Bring his homework over after school today, talk to him a little, and if you feel like things went well, stay for dinner. How's that?"

Chloe pulled her money out of her purse to pay for her coffe, but Martha stopped her. "It's on the house. You're a good friend to Clark, and he really, really needs that right now."

A strange look crossed Chloe's face. "Mrs. Kent? Did - did anyone else call or stop by for Clark?"

Martha sighed. "You did, Lois called once to say that she'd come with you once he was up for visitors, and Lex called yesterday because he hadn't heard what happened until then. That's it."

"You mean Pete didn't call? I called him and told him everything!"

"No. Please, don't bring it up when you talk to Clark tonight. If he asks, tell him, but don't bring it up. He blames himself for Pete leaving Smallville. I think they argued or - or something." Martha stopped, not wanting to make Chloe suspicious about Pete's decision to leave.

"I won't say a word. No word from Lana or Jason?"

"None."

Chloe's lips pressed together in a thin line. "I see. I need to get going, I guess, If I'm going to get the Torch out of bed this morning. Thanks for the coffee, and I'll see you tonight."

With that, Chloe hurried out of the coffee shop and toward the school, leaving Martha wondering just what the conversation Chloe had had with Pete had been like.


	7. Chapter 7

Chloe didn't feel hungry at lunchtime, so she went back to the Torch to try to get some work done. She had spent the morning thinking about Clark. Not that that was unusual - she'd only had a crush on him since the first day she met him after moving to Smallville from Metropolis. This was different, though. After what she had seen, knowing what Clark could do, she was fascinated with him in a whole new way. Anger that he had not told her his secret had lasted for only a matter of minutes. Why hadn't Clark trusted her? Well, the answer had been plastered all over the Wall of Weird. God, he probably thought that if she knew, he might end up all over the Wall of Weird as well. She wondered if there hadn't been times that he had come close to telling her, and she might have ruined it in one way or another. Lionel Luthor. She had assisted Lionel Luthor in investigating Clark. Willingly, at first. A wave of sickness washed through her, and she was glad that she had skipped lunch.

The door to the Torch opened, and Lana Lang entered the room. "Chloe? Is everything all right? You weren't at lunch."

Chloe turned to face her, offering a weak smile. "I just wasn't hungry."

Lana held out a small paper bag. "I brought you a bagel and cream cheese. Just in case you feel like a snack later on."

"Thanks."

Lana started to leave, then stopped. "Chloe, are you sure you're all right? You don't seem like yourself."

How am I supposed to act? I just found out that one of my best friends is some kind of meteor freak! I saw him lift a car, for crying out loud! And, I just realized that he probably never told me because some of the things I've done pretty much make me the last person on earth he should trust!

Aloud, she replied, "I'm fine. Just worried about Clark. I ran into Mrs. Kent at the coffee shop this morning."

Incredulously, Lana rolled her eyes. "I can't believe the Kents have let him miss four days of school over something like this! Are they going to let him hole up in that barn forever?"

Something in Lana's tone triggered a torrent of anger in Chloe. "Something like this? He found the murdered body of his girlfriend hanging in a stable. Even if it had been the body of a complete stranger, that's pretty traumatic. Having never found any of my loved ones hanged from a rafter myself, I can't begin to imagine how horrible he must be feeling."

"I didn't say it wasn't bad! It's just that it was Alicia. She tried to kill me once, if you remember?"

"No one is likely to forget anytime soon, the way you keep bringing it up! She tried to kill Clark, too. I didn't like her - I thought she was a psychotic b, if you want to get technical about it, but the point is that this time she was innocent. She did her time, she got released, Clark forgave her - he always does, with everybody. No surprise there. She didn't do what everyone thought she did. Clark believed in her and got ostracized by all of us for his trouble. Then, he lost Alicia, too."

Lana sighed, clearly still annoyed with the situation, but willing to discuss it further. "Did Mrs. Kent say how he's doing?"

"Not good. He wouldn't even come in the house until last night. He just sat out there in his loft, alone. She said he still can't hold it together well enough to last a day at school, and she doesn't want to rush him."

"Four days seems like enough. Kids who have lost parents have come back to school faster than that."

Chloe was losing her patience. "I'll bet none of those kids found the dead bodies swinging in the breeze. God, Lana! Have some compassion! Do you want him to come to school and break down in tears in the hallway when he sees the memorial photograph and obituary? For whatever reasons, this thing is hitting him hard, and what he really needs are friends, not interrogations. When you're ready to just be a friend, pick up the phone."

With that, Chloe turned on her heel and left Lana in the room alone.


	8. Chapter 8

Lana stood where Chloe had left her in the Torch office. She thought about their conversation, and felt like slapping herself. Why was it that she so often said things in anger that she regretted later? Why was she angry so often lately? It wasn't as though she'd even spent enough time with Clark recently to even find a reason to be angry with him. She was starting to feel like Clark was a stranger to her, and she knew that it was not entirely his fault. Did her anger have anything to do with the tattoo and the Countess? Was she completely paranoid, or was Genevieve Teague somehow messing with her mind? She knew that her strained relationship with Jason was partially to blame for her spending less time withher friends lately - had it caused her to ignore them so much that her friends were no longer her friends?

She thought about what Chloe had said - that Clark had been ostracized by them. Not just by she, Lana. By them. Chloe was upset with herself as well, and possibly with Pete. After this summer, when Lana had been in Paris, Chloe had been presumed dead, Pete had been gone, and Lex had nearly died - where had Clark been? She was embarrassed to say that she didn't really know. By the moment, she was becoming more and more convinced that loneliness had drawn Clark to Alicia.

At the though of the name of the girl who had nearly killed her, Lana felt a cold chill travel up her spine. Stop it, Lana! It isn't like you haven't dated your share of psycho meteor freaks. She took a deep breath, resolving to find Chloe and apologize, then start trying to figure out what she was going to say to Clark and when she was going to say it.  
Late in the evening, Chloe arrived with a backpack full of assignments for Clark. She was welcomed into the Kent house by Martha, who seemed very glad to see her.

"Chloe, come inside and have a bite to eat! We're having pork chops, baked potatoes, and cucumber salad."

Chloe set down her backpack and looked around. "Where's Clark?"

"He'll be back. He took a walk. To the cemetery, I think."

Rifling through the backpack for the list of assignments, Chloe nodded. "Was he all right with me coming over here tonight?"

Martha smiled. "He was a little nervous, but only because he was embarrassed that you knew."

Chloe stiffened. "Knew? Knew what? I don't know anything."

There was an uneasy silence as Martha looked at her critically. "About how upset he's been? What did you think I meant?"

Hastily shoving the papers back into the folder, Chloe shook her head. "Nothing. I just - I was joking. See? If I don't know anything, I don't have to mention it to Clark then, do I?" She offered her most convincing smile to Martha, then headed for the door. "I think I'll try to meet up with Clark at the cemetery, lend him some support if he wants it."

"I think that's a good idea. He really needs his friends right now. Jonathan and I are always here for him, but ... he's a teenager. I think it makes him feel like a - a dork or something to hang out with his parents all the time." She winced slightly. "Was 'dork' the right word? I don't want to sound like one of those too-hip-for-their-own-good mothers."

Laughing, Chloe replied, "I have, upon occasion, called Clark a 'dork' before. In eighth grade. Of course, it was pretty much a case of the pot and the kettle - have you SEEN my school picture from junior high?"


	9. Chapter 9

Clark stretched out on his bed, thinking over the events of the day. He had slept in until 9:00, then come downstairs to eat the breakfast his father had prepared. Most of the daylight hours he had spent helping his father around the farm. The work had been therapeutic for Clark, helping to keep his mind from wandering to thoughts of Alicia. It had also been nice to spend time with his dad. He had held one end of the tractor up for close to an hour while his father repaired one of the blades and replaced a belt, and while they had worked, they had talked. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that his father had carefully chosen some of the stories he had related, the underlying message being that no teenager is perfect, and that good parents love their children unconditionally. Without ever mentioning Alicia's name, Jonathan Kent had managed to convey to his son that he did not ever need to worry that his parents would react the way Alicia's had to their child having superhuman powers. One of the stories his father had told him had to do with a teenage Jonathan being caught sneaking out at night to attend a party. The way Grandpa Hiram had dealt with the situation left Clark chuckling and wishing he had known his paternal grandfather.

They had eaten ham and cheese sandwiches and leftover fruit salad for lunch, and had then resumed their work. At about three-thirty, Jonathan had called it quits on the work, stating that Clark's help had made the day's work fly past. The two Kent men had gone inside to get cleaned up, and then lounged around the house watching the Metropolis Sharks game on the television. Sometime during the game, Clark had fallen asleep on the couch, and his father had fallen asleep in the recliner.

The sound of the door swinging shut had awakened them, letting them know that Martha had returned from the coffee shop. After an excellent meal, the Kent family had cleared the table and brought out some board games to choose from.

Now, lying in his bed in warm, blue and red plaid pajamas, Clark felt more relaxed than he had in weeks. Alicia's death was still with him, still a raw, painful wound on his soul, but for the first time since her death, he was able to comprehend that his world was not entirely shattered. That his parents loved him and would continue to do so even when he made mistakes or decisions they did not understand.

Chloe's visit from the night before had also done wonders for Clark's spirit. He was now assured that Chloe would be his friend no matter what. She had proven that when she had tracked him down at the cemetery and offered her support. Somehow, knowing that he had at least one friend at school and the loving support of his parents to return home to every day eased the suffocating sense of loneliness that had become a regular part of his life. Chloe's support would make his return to school less miserable. With his thoughts leaning a little less toward the dark side for the first time in days, Clark closed his eyes and began to dream.  
"No! Alicia, no ... don't be dead, you can't be dead! Alicia, you have to wake up!"

Martha was coming up the stairs to put away some freshly laundered towels when she heard her son's cry. Tears welled in her eyes at the desperation in his voice, and again the unwanted image of her devastated son cradling Alicia's lifeless body invaded her mind. She dropped the towels on the stairs and ran to Clark's room. Under normal circumstances she would never have invaded his privacy without knocking or calling out first, but her mothering instincts would not allow for such cursory politeness, not when her child was in such obvious distress.

Clark lay tangled in his sheets and blanket, tears streaking down his cheeks and soaking his pillow. "Alicia! No! Oh, God. She's dead, she's dead!"

With firm determination, Martha placed a hand on her son's arm and shook it. "Clark. Wake up, sweetheart. You have to wake up. It's just a dream!"

His eyes shot open, and he sat up with a gasp. His breathing was too fast, and he looked wildly from side to side. Martha ran a supportive arm around his shoulders. "Shh, shh, baby. It's all right, I'm here."

Clark went from rigid panic to boneless relief in mere seconds. He practically melted into his mother's arms and let out a shuddering sob. "I saw her hanging ... dead. She's dead ..."

Martha stroked his hair gently, rocking him back and forth. "You were dreaming, sweetheart."

He shook his head, "But she really is dead. I saw her. I could have saved her if I'd been there."

"Martha!"

A cry from downstairs filled the air.

"Martha! Where are you?"

"Up here, Jonathan! In Clark's room!"

Jonathan looked slightly sheepish when he found his wife and son unharmed. "The laundry on the stairs ... the overturned basket ... I thought something happened ..." He paused, taking in his son's disheveled state and the tear tracks on his cheeks. "What happened?"

Still stroking Clark's hair, Martha replied, "Nightmare. I heard him cry out and I was on my way up with the laundry."

"Sorry." Clark mumbled exhaustedly.

"No need to apologize, son. I worry because I'm your father and it's part of my job. If I'm not worrying, I'm not doing my job." He ruffled Clark's hair affectionately. "Was it about Alicia?"

Clark nodded. "I dreamed about - about when I found her."

Neither parent knew what to say to take away the hurt they so desperately wanted to take from their son. All they could do was stay with him until he fell asleep again, and hope that this time, he would be permitted to rest without fear.


	10. Chapter 10

On Friday evening, Clark sat on his sofa in the loft, books spread out all around him. He was returning to school on Monday, and he was putting the finishing touches on his homework. Chloe had stopped by after school on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday to pick up his assignments and drop off new ones. Sometimes she stayed for a little while to talk or explain some of the work. Clark was more grateful for her friendship than he could ever hope to explain to her. He had yet to hear from Lois, but Chloe assured him that she had called several times to ask how he had been doing.

He heard a car pull into the driveway and a door slam shut. Moments later Lex stuck his head inside the barn and called out, "Clark?"

"Up here, Lex." He waved for his friend to join him up in the loft.

Lex smiled, but he seemed slightly uneasy, which was highly unusual for the self-assured young billionaire.

"I see you're playing catch-up with your schoolwork. Does that mean you're going back on Monday?"

"Yes. Chloe's been keeping me caught up with assignments, but I'll still have two make-up quizzes to take when I get back."

Lex sat down. "Listen, Clark. I'm sorry I haven't stopped by lately. Things have been crazy, and - well, I honestly wasn't sure if you would want visitors."

Clark nodded. "I didn't - or, at least I didn't think I did - at first." He paused, looking down at his hands. "It just feels like no one understands. I know she did terrible things, but she changed, she got better!"

"You knew what she'd done, but you couldn't stop the way you felt. You wanted to save her, help her. You felt that despite her flaws, she loved you for who you are instead of how other people see you."

Clark stared. How could Lex have known those things?

"After I lost Helen, I didn't think I'd ever enjoy anything again. It fades with time, Clark. Trust me, I've been there. There was no trust in our relationship, but that didn't make what I felt for her any less real." He grinned, leaning back on the sofa. "Of course, I was of legal age at the time of my marriage."

Blushing furiously, Clark looked away. "We didn't ... I mean, we never - "

With a wave of his hand, Lex stopped him short. "Clark, a gentleman does not kiss and tell. What I'm saying is that I understand, at least a little bit. If you need to talk, come on over. If you'd rather blow off some steam with a fencing lesson or something active, that's okay too."

"Thanks, Lex. I might take you up on that fencing lesson. I always kind of thought it looked like fun. And thanks for understanding. I feel like I want to hide up here forever. Everyone's going to look at me like I'm some kind of freak when I go back to school. I'm sure there isn't anyone in Smallville who hasn't heard about her past and our relationship."

"Look them in the eye, Clark. Don't be ashamed of who you are or how you feel."

Clark appreciated Lex's intent, but those words reminded him of the secret he kept, and in turn, of Alicia. With Alicia, he hadn't had any secrets to feel ashamed of. He offered Lex a weak smile. "Thanks."


	11. Chapter 11

Lana pulled up in front of the Kent residence, fighting the urge to turn her vehicle around and drive away again. At school, Chloe had informed her that Clark would be returning on Monday. A not-so-subtle hint that if she was going to talk to Clark before he came back, it would have to be this weekend. She had passed Lex on the road, and wondered if he had been to the Kent farm to speak with Clark as well. She opened the door and stepped out into the driveway. Why was this so difficult? It was just Clark, her friend. She was visiting a friend who was recovering from a terrible loss. An image of Clark, standing in stupefied horror at the silhouette of a hanging body, surfaced briefly, and she shuddered. What exactly did you say to a person who had so recently seen something so horrible? For that matter, what did you say to a friend who had begun to feel like a stranger?

She looked toward the house, then to the barn. If she knocked on the door of the house, she would have to make small talk with the Kents. If she checked the barn first, she might be able to avoid confrontation with the parents and just talk to Clark. Not that she disliked the Kents, because she liked them quite a bit. She just wasn't sure if they still liked her. Slowly, she made her way over to the barn, and slipped inside. She could hear music - he must have brought a CD player out to the barn. As she ascended to the loft, she felt her heart constrict at the sight of him.

Clark sat on the sofa, surrounded by textbooks and papers. His eyes were closed, and his head rested against the sofa cushions. Around his neck, he wore a girl's green scarf, and his hands played restlessly with the ends. She knew without asking that it must be Alicia's scarf, and she wanted more than anything to wrap her arms around him and tell him that things would get better, that it would be all right.

"Clark?" She found her voice, but it sounded shaky to her ears.

His eyes flew open, and he was clearly startled.

"Lana? Why are you - I mean, when did you - ?"

She pasted on a smile. "I wanted to see you. You know, before you come back to school on Monday."

"Why?"

His simple question hurt, more than she was prepared to deal with. Why? Because he was her friend, that was why. Because she had had time to process everything that had happened and realize that Clark was truly grieving. Because she liked the way he looked even in baggy jeans and an old, faded, blue sweatshirt. Why was it so easy to answer his question, but so hard to put any of it to words?

"Lots of reasons. You're my friend, Clark. Chloe hasn't said much, but what she did say stuck with me." She reached out to touch his shoulder, squeezing gently. "I don't know what's wrong with our friendship lately - it kind of feels like we're strangers, and that isn't right. I've been ... weird, I guess, with the whole Jason thing, and I sort of lost sight of you." She plucked at the green yarn of the scarf. "I'm sorry about Alicia, Clark. Truly sorry. No one deserves what happened to her, and no one deserves to find something like that less than you do, Clark."

She saw then that his jaw was clenched tightly shut and his eyes were starting to fill with tears. Without a second thought, she pulled him to her tightly in a hug. His tears soaked through the shoulder of her lavender sweater. His raw grief startled her. She simply hadn't realized that his feelings for Alicia ran this deep. It reminded her of when she'd found out that Whitney was dead.

After a few minutes, she let go of him, but kept her hand on his arm. He sniffed, trying to regain his composure.

"I'm sorry, I just - sometimes, I - " He stopped, unable to string together a coherent thought.

"Shhh. You don't have to say anything, Clark. I sort of understand how you feel. Remember when Whitney died, and you were there for me? If you can be as understanding and sweet as you were after all Whitney had done to you, there is no reason at all that I can't do the same."

Clark raised an eyebrow. "There's a difference between Whitney stringing me up as the scarecrow because he thought I was trying to steal his girlfriend, and Alicia trying to kill you because she saw you as a threat."

"Does this mean we're friends again? I mean, you came out here and - and talked to me - are we okay?"

Lana nodded. "We never stopped. Our lives got in the way of each other's there for awhile. We just needed to get back on track. That's what Chloe does best. The kick in the pants to get us moving."

"She got me moving out of the loft." Clark gave Lana a quick hug. "Thanks. At least now I know I don't have to eat lunch by myself on Monday."

"You're with me and Chloe. We'll be your bodyguards - remember, I've been trained in the arts of ass-kicking by Lex Luthor himself."

Lana felt a wave of relief wash over her when Clark smiled.

"For the record? Whitney was right. I was trying to steal his girlfriend."


	12. Chapter 12

Pete Ross was sitting on the porch swing in front of the new house he had moved to with his mother when his parents had divorced, reading a novel for his English class at the new school he now attended. When his cell phone rang, he fully intended to ignore it, but when the X-Files theme song played as the ring tone, he sighed. It was Chloe. If there was one thing he missed about Smallville, it was Chloe. The problem was that he knew she would want to talk about Clark. When she had called to tell him what had happened, he had reacted badly, he knew that. It was just that he was tired of talking about Clark Kent. He was tired of thinking about Clark Kent. But, he had to answer the phone. It wasn't in him to deny Chloe anything.

He snapped his phone open and answered, "Hello?"

"Pete?"

"Yeah, Chloe. You called me. Don't sound so surprised."

"Well, the last three times I called you, I was sent straight to, 'Hi, this is Pete. I can't answer my phone right now if the area code is Smallville –'"

"That's not what it says, Chloe. I got your messages, but I was busy. I had two tests to study for, and – "

She interrupted him. "You don't have to make excuses, Pete. I didn't call you to have a fight. I miss you. Lana misses you. Clark misses you. I thought maybe you might want to come home next weekend. My dad says you can stay over, as long as you're on the couch in the den."

"I want to, Chloe. I really would love to, but I'm still settling in here. I can't go back yet. I wanted to make a clean break, you know that."

He could tell from the tone of her voice that she was hurt. "Yeah, I know that's what you told me, but that doesn't make it okay, Pete. You can't just move away and forget your friends, especially when they really need you."

Pete sighed. "You're talking about Clark again, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am talking about Clark. The guy who has been your best friend since before I moved to Smallville. You know, the guy who found his girlfriend hanging from a rope in a barn? I can't figure you out, Pete. You used to have our backs, watch out for us, give a damn when things got scary!"

"Are … things getting scary again?"

"What do you think? I'm seriously down one best friend since you've been gone, and Lana barely looks at anyone except Jason these days. The only friends I have left are my cousin, who is attending college in Metropolis, and Clark, who is so depressed it's like pulling teeth to get him to carry on a conversation! I've given up on him ever turning in another article for the Torch, he's like a robot in the halls at school, and he never socializes anymore. The only way I can get him to act normal is to go out to the farm to hang out with him. And you know about how much I love sitting in that barn with all of that hay. It's itchy."

From the other end of the phone, Pete heard a sniff, and closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. Great. Chloe was so upset she was crying. Part of him was mad at himself for upsetting her enough to make her cry, but the rest of him was angry with Clark for being the root of the problem to begin with. Clark probably had no idea how worried Chloe was about him. He always had been completely blind when it came to Chloe.

Another sniff confirmed his suspicion. Chloe was crying.

"Hang on a minute. Sorry, Pete. My allergies are – are acting up again."

Of course, she would try to play it off in some way. Chloe wasn't the sort of girl who looked for a masculine shoulder to cry on – that was more like Lana. Not that it was bad to cry, just not in Chloe's character. She had said that Clark was depressed. Just how depressed was he that Chloe was this worried about him? So Alicia Baker had died. Why would it affect Clark so much? Didn't he remember that she had tried to kill Lana Lang? Was Chloe worried that Clark might be suicidal? Too bad he couldn't tell her that he couldn't commit suicide even if he wanted to – his skin was impenetrable. Unless … a horrifying image entered his mind's eye. Kryptonite. Would Clark use the green meteor rock to –

"Chloe?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry."

"You're sorry what?"

He should have known she wouldn't make this easy. If she had, she wouldn't be the Chloe he remembered.

"I'm sorry I got you upset. I'm sorry I moved away without – without ending things better between all of us. Me and you. Me and Clark."

Her tone brightened considerably. "So you'll come home for the weekend?"

"Yeah, I'll come home for the weekend. Pull out the old sofa bed. Just like old times."

"Pete?"

"Yeah?"

"The old sofa bed exploded with the old house. The new one's a straight up couch. Comfy, though."

"Oh."

He had forgotten about the explosion for awhile. If he thought about it too much, he remembered what it felt like when he had thought she was dead.

"Well, see you next weekend?"

"Next weekend."

After hanging up, Pete stretched out in the porch swing, his book resting on his chest, his place still marked. Next weekend he would face the friend he had abandoned, the friend who had trusted him with the secret he could trust no one else to keep. The friend who needed protection the least of any other, who in fact needed it the most. For the first time since his move, Pete allowed himself to think about what it must have been like for Clark. He imagined himself finding the dead body of a loved one the way Clark had discovered Alicia. He imagined the horror in tandem with the guilt and blame that Clark would have felt toward himself. He imagined Chloe left alone in Smallville to pick up the pieces. Not good. No, this definitely wasn't good.


End file.
